


Covariance

by RyuichiroSakuraba



Series: Coexistence [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIII Series, Final Fantasy XIII-2
Genre: Adult!Hope, M/M, awkward confessions, characters may be ooc, dom!hope, mentions of FF XIV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 05:38:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6106690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyuichiroSakuraba/pseuds/RyuichiroSakuraba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Historia Crux, despite its sheer complexity, offered a gift that even the Fal'cie cannot bestow: leaping through timelines. Even people with a one-track mind can use it well, though the results of manipulating the flow of time may vary for each individual.</p><p>Snow stumbled into several eras and realms through the its Gates, only to find out that his most important person is bound to die. Aiming to avert the impending situation, he accessed a Gate that made him realize that there were some things that time cannot change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Covariance

**Author's Note:**

> It's almost 4 am now and I couldn't seem to get this ship off my yard so I'll let this baby sail freely.
> 
> I'm feeling so sleepy now so I apologize if you see any inconsistencies (and please zap me if you find them so I can make the necessary changes).
> 
> I still don't own anything from the FF XIII series and Square Enix. I'm just sending these two boys to play in my sandbox.

Time travel sounded like a ton of body pain, as if one’s anatomy was being dissected in all directions possible. Cocoon’s scientific advances (back when it was still floating anyway) offered all kinds of innovations ranging from enhanced punches to safe hundred-feet skydives minus the trampoline; Snow never thought that he would be used to this kind of transportation – he still admonishes the nauseous feeling every single time he stepped out of a Gate, waiting for his clothes to materialize properly prior to even budging.

“Uh, does this have to always happen?” the blonde groaned, massaging his aching shoulder which was just cured from dislocation due to his attempt to beat the stupid monster that appeared to be a century’s supply of honest-to-goodness Flan.

Snow breathed deeply, relishing the sharp smell of the night combined with meadow grass and Gran Pulse palms. Ah, surely enough, he would never forget.

“So I’m at the HQ now, huh? Brings back memories.”

The Sentinel smiled wryly, readjusting the rucksack that he’s been carrying from the last place that he visited after the Flan incident. It was dark out, but the blonde soon noticed that there was something totally out of place in the area.

Snow was looking at a stone face when someone interrupted him from his thoughts. “Ah, a visitor. We tend to be flocked by them lately,” a man in about his mid-twenties commented, seemingly unfazed at his sudden appearance and distinct difference in attire. He never might have seen Snow jumping out of a Gate nearby. “Is it your first time here?”

“Not really,” the blonde replied, shrugging as if nothing was wrong. “Yaschas Massif still looks the same as I remember it. Uh, would you mind telling me what year is it?”

The man raised an eyebrow. “You’re the second person to ask me that in a span of a few hours. It’s 10 AF now, and it’s still daytime to be honest; that Fal’cie totally blocked the light out so we’re under an eclipse for the time being. Monsters keep everyone on high alert though so if you want to check out the place, I suggest staying within the searchlights and lampposts.”

Nodding, Snow cracked his knuckles and grinned at the helpful guy. “Thanks for the warning but I’ll be fine. See you around!” With that, Snow trudged the dark expanse without a second thought, hopping across stone ledges and punching a few monsters to a creamy mush, judging from the wailing of Spiranthes and Gahongas here and there with a rare howling of a Feral Behemoth. The Sentinel paid no heed to the guy’s advice or he probably forgot along the way.

The man from earlier, dumbfounded, sighed at the piece of parchment he was supposed to give the apparently strong duelist he just met.

“It’s my job to give out maps… I feel so useless…”

* * *

 

The consecutive bouts took its toll as he made his way to what he felt was the right path, noticing the increasing number of lighting fixtures in the area. He must be close to a camp or something along those lines – he badly needed to take a rest and he’s slightly bleeding from a nasty cut from a raging Behemoth. Resting his back on a glimmering post, Snow rummaged his pack for some rations and found two servings of Cockatrice Meatballs.

“Weird name, but what the hell,” he said to himself as he chowed down, feeling the effects of Brave, Haste and Vigilance almost immediately. During his one-day stay in Eorzea, he recalled that food there were not only good for the stomach, but also good for boosting battle prowess, depending on the grub that one consumed. Now that he’s in Gran Pulse, the effect was quite different, but still welcome nonetheless – the protein might just help him through another wave of monsters to reach a civilized area somehow.

Feeling energized, he bumped his fists together and resumed his trek, following the searchlights this time, thinking it was better safe than dead. He needed to find where the real Lightning was in the first place, and he must not stop now; Eorzea had a ton of Lightning wannabes, and feline humans wearing his former garb when he was a fugitive left him a little embarrassed for he was not supposed to look even remotely cute. Damn those seekers and keepers.

Yaschas Massif held a breathtaking view in daylight, and it boasted an eerie kind of charm in the dark. Snow swore not to be too reminiscent as he was nearly reaching the Paddraean Archaeopolis, but he couldn’t help but recall the fun times with his party back then; Fang’s rather caustic humor, Sazh’s joke time sessions, Vanille’s rabid fangirl squeal after defeating a Gui with a Death spell (and grabbing the glittery gil makers while cheering on the rest of the man crew for cleanup duty), Lightning’s borderline motherly lectures while grilling a Behemoth rump, and his rough yet soothing bath time banters with Hope at Sulyya.

 _“I wonder how he’s doing now,”_ he wondered, looking at the semi-starlit sky and admiring the Cocoon supported by pristine crystal.

_“Does he eat properly? Pulse greens did him good… The kid’s way too skinny back then, but he did a great job as a Sentinel. He’s probably way stronger than he looks. But still, I need to save him. Lightning’s somewhere far, far away. Sazh is busy, Serah and Noel have their hands full… Fang and Vanille are still doing their best even during stasis. That means I’m the only one who can.”_

The ruins of Paddra loomed over the horizon as he took a few more steps, the sound of civilization perked his ears, signaling that he arrived safely; one step closer to the truth where Lightning went.

…until a film of thick ether covered the area, earning the brawler something that resembled a Gogmagog, but its chains and amulets told him the otherwise.

Paradox? Check.

Clue to Lightning’s whereabouts? Perhaps another check.

Safe? Okay, maybe not.

“Damn it,” Snow cursed underneath his breath, eyeing the monster hailing from what seemed to be akin to a Summoner’s circle that he saw some adventurers used at the outskirts of Limsa Lominsa. Readying for a barrage of pain, he invoked his Sentinel paradigm and waited for a Swipe, shuffling through his deck for a series of Commando barrage once he dampened the impending blows. As expected, the pain came, but it was not enough to force him down.

“Nice try. Now, how about this?!”

Wrong move. It didn’t take a genius to realize that one cannot launch an already floating opponent. Resorting to a plethora of Ruins did a little chunk of damage, but there was nothing else to do; the abomination was highly resistant to physical damage, so magic proved useful nonetheless – despite the arcane being his kid partner’s specialty. Funny thing though, the paradox was already afflicted with Deshell now that he scanned it. Old habits die hard, it seemed.

Snow was never the one to check the Libra details before brawling things out.

“Not this time, Aloeidai.”

A deep voice resonated from afar, sounding foreign yet strikingly familiar at the same time. The blonde barely registered what was happening (he sucked at multitasking) until two Blizzagas almost staggered the target in-between his aerial Ruins; he still couldn’t do those fancy tumbles Lightning used to display in _every single battle_.

Dodge-rolling a Swipe after he touched the ground, he took a glance at the upside-down image of a young man jumping into the fray, sporting a dignified uniform of white, blue and gold. The red holsters looked a bit awkward, but the thing that drawn him in was the pair of calm yet determined emerald orbs slightly narrowing at the sight of the gigantic paradox.

“It is common sense that you stagger the enemy first before trying to go all-out Commando,” the silver-haired man commented, serious with a tinge of what Snow believed was amusement.

The witty retort and the nostalgic hair-raising threads of high-level magic was something he missed for years – or days; time travel surely messed up one’s brain.

“What’s up, kid?”

“Shut up.”

_“That’s my Hope, alright.”_

Absolutely distracted, Snow was not able to evade the following Landshatter, causing him to wobble, interrupting his supposed-to-be chain of attacks. The kid’s refreshing transformation to a young man was certainly a sight for sore eyes after a long time of traveling alone from one Gate to another; however, his appraisal should be put on hold for there were some urgent things on hand that needed to be resolved as soon as possible.

Hope did a backflip worthy of a former Guardian Corps’ seal of excellence. Snow couldn’t help but feel a little jealous.

“Seriously, you never learn…” the boomerang-wielder sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to combat the impending headache. “On my lead then.”

It took two to tango. The battle ensued as if their plight of saving Cocoon was just yesterday. Snow still had his zeal in battle, and what he lacked in battle tactics was filled in by Hope’s skill in observation. The blonde might not be so good in calling the shots, but his uncanny ability to follow _when needed_ was truly golden, much to the silver-haired man’s relief.

A few more rounds of Firagas and Aloeidai was staggering like a crustacean being blanched in mildly-salted boiling water.

“Do you thing, _hero_.”

“Heh. Watch and learn.”

Nothing beat smacking a hostile with Sovereign Fist, or so Snow believed. However, his joy was short-lived when the abomination conjured a space-time hole and the said contraption started to suck everything to it; even the weird chocobo lady was holding on to a rock like a limpet in order not to get caught in the impending chronostorm.

“Fuck,” the blonde hissed, running to shield the boy and the chocolady shopkeeper from the unstable crack of the timeline. He knew too well what happened to someone who got caught; being in a limbo himself told him that they might not get as lucky as he was.

Soon, a warm hand touched his shoulder and pushed him aside. “I’ll save you,” the young man whispered, the hot breath slightly tickling his neck.

The whirring of Hope’s Airwing zipped just past his ear and the weapon encircled Aloeidai and the now collapsing time hole. Had Snow glanced sideways, he might have seen the other’s hopeful look. The boomerang hit the creature’s head with a thunk, and the area soon slowed down like molasses and crackled with what he noticed as Hope’s version of Thundaga.

All of a sudden, the space-time hole imploded to something akin to a pinhead and disappeared like a dying star, as if the vacuum phenomenon didn’t occur in the first place. Aloeidai screeched as it shriveled up, its summoning circle turning into crystal dust before disappearing with the creature entirely, not leaving a trace of its existence.

A relieved sigh left Hope’s lips after time resumed its former pace, deftly catching his signature weapon and brushing the dust off his pants and shoulders.

Thousands of questions ran across Snow’s mind now that the crisis has been averted. There were a ton of things he would like to ask Hope; he never knew which one to ask first.

Well, back to basics.

“Hey, are you really–”

Hope shook his head before flashing his trademark uneasy smile, just like he did when they first reconciled.

“Save the questions for later. Right now, you need a bath.”

 _“Ugh, talk about a ‘heartwarming’ reunion,”_ Snow groaned inwardly, nodding to sniff if he did stink.

As if reading what he was thinking, the young man chuckled melodiously, making Snow squint and ask himself why Hope sounded downright sexy at the moment, despite his obvious attraction to the female populace. “I didn’t mean anything bad. As much as I like sweet stuff, you strongly smell of Flan,” he continued, emerald orbs showing a hungry, slightly feral glint. “Just what have you been up to these days?”

With that, Hope’s gaze reverted to a friendlier one as he canted his head sideways, urging Snow to follow him. Mind running haywire at how their conversation temporarily ended, he raised an eyebrow and tried to wrack his brain at what the other boy said. Tucking the info for later, he shrugged and followed the boy towards the Archaeopolis, earning a few weird looks from other people as he traced Hope’s footsteps.

What made him feel a little odd was the faint cheering of the red chocobo girl that sounded like “Follow your heart, Chocolin~!”

* * *

 

Snow appreciated the younger’s hospitality and keen observation; he never knew how comfortable it was to soak under a warm spray after being denied its relaxing qualities for days (months, or even years, for Eden’s sake).

Well, until today. Lathering up his former charge’s shampoo, he scrubbed his scalp raw, sloughing off the build-up from his previous battles with a building-sized Flan and some random Eorzean beasts in the deserts near Ul’dah. As he wound down, he began to think about what to ask Hope the moment he stepped out of the makeshift shower at the research base. Serah would be amazed at how the little kid turned out to be a dashing young man given enough time.

_“They will get along well.”_

The blonde almost chuckled to himself when he heard someone cleared his throat a few paces away from the sorry excuse of a shower curtain made from a cut-up tent. At least it provided a tiny bit of privacy, though Snow wasn’t actually bothered by the lack of it anyway.

“Hot water is luxury. I’m getting kinda itchy here so please finish up so I can somehow redeem myself,” the silver-haired man sighed, tapping his shoes on the cobblestone to emphasize that he badly needed one too.

When Hope experienced something highly annoying, subtlety became his weakest suit. Apparently, Snow was one of his major irritants right now; he wouldn’t take ‘one minute more’ as an excuse. Despite the sentinel being attuned to his element, Hope’s Blizzaga executions still brought pain. He knew that all too well.

Feeling that he overstayed his welcome under the hot stream, he quickly rinsed all suds, grabbed the towel in a flash and tied it around his dripping locks, mimicking how he looked like when he first became a l’Cie.

“I’m done,” Snow announced as he raised the flap, shivering slightly at the sudden attack of cool air when went out of the shower stall.

Hope turned around impatiently, his uniform top now held with one hand, dancing gracefully from his shoulder as he faced the other man. The narrowed gaze told him that he probably ticked off the younger male again, judging from the frown he sported, a hand on his hip further accentuating the younger man’s frustration.

“Tch. I almost forgot you love flashing people. If Alyssa saw you, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

 _“Alyssa? That…she’s here?”_ Snow’s brow furrowed, inwardly fuming. He had his vision of a blonde girl saying goodnight to Hope. Then, a gunshot. _“Should I eliminate her now? But that might mess up the timeline…”_

Too much thinking rots the brain. So, Snow stopped harassing his brain further and tried hard to erase his scowl, letting his hero senses prevail, utterly playing by ear. Things would work out for the better, right?

“What am I going to do with you?” Hope sighed and walked (stomped, if you squint) to the man in his birthday suit, flopping the uniform over his broad shoulders and yanking the towel from his hair. “Tch. You calling me kid when you look grumpy and act like a brat 85% of the time,” he continued, briskly harassing Snow’s head in an effort to somewhat dry the sloppy mop of golden tresses.

“Cover yourself up, hero. I don’t want anyone seeing you like that,” Hope said with a note of finality as he handed the blonde the same fluffy towel. With a huff, he pulled his own black tank top and stepped into the stall.

With all of Snow’s extreme episodes of confidence, it was the first time that he was relatively afraid of Hope.

“Chuck that towel into the dryer by the tent and make sure to hand it back here once it’s done. Your pants must be dry now,” the young man added before shimmying out of his trousers and turning on the spray, humming what Snow recalled as the “Boomerang Maintenance Song”.

Flabbergasted, the blonde tried to make out what had transpired in the course of their short conversation. It’s one of those rare instances when his mind worked overdrive. Alas, the moment he almost grasped the fleeting thought, nothing came up.

…the cold draft on a man’s pride sure was distracting.

* * *

 

His clothes tumbled lazily inside the washer when he checked, so Snow opted just to have his pants on. The tent provided the basics when it came to survival in the wilds, now that he had a chance to appraise it. A small, unmade cot, a vacuum flask at the bedside table that doubled as a dresser, a table holding computers with all sorts of wires sticking out like tangled tentacles (that would make a Malboro green with envy); the usual stuff a workaholic should be messing around with.

“Haha. Why am I not surprised,” he muttered to himself as he eyed the slim worktable full of documents and some papers with tea spills and cookie crumbs. However, his eye caught a noticeably old, semi-fading photograph pasted on the corner of Hope’s monitor. Squinting a bit due to the low light in the tent, he drew closer and looked at the photo with utter confusion.

A comm port image capture printout.

Lightning religiously recorded their daily progress to the dot, Vanille transformed as the team’s haggler extraordinaire much to Sazh’s astonishment, and Hope? Well, he’s more into just buying accountrements and emergency stuff for the team, following the footsteps of the resident Guardian Corps mother hen, as Fang put it bluntly.

But…this?

Hope was looking at camera, his mouth busy chugging on a Potion, with him behind the boy, drinking a flask of the same restorative too, facing sideways yet his eye was focused on the camera lens too, brow raised as if he trying to see what his charge was doing.

The Skyreach?

That was the time when the sky was clear and the weather was fair enough to let their beaten bodies sunbathe (with Snow’s constant rambling of getting a good tan is healthy) after taking a nice, hot bath together in Sulyya because they couldn’t take the stench of Sahagin blood from their earlier skirmishes. Sazh preferred to doze off somewhere before washing up, leaving the two of them with a rather rare chance to act carefree in the midst of finding a way to diverge from their Focus.

A ball of strings made its way to his stomach. It was obvious enough that Hope looked up to him, but after setting his sight on the younger’s highly-valued piece of photo paper…

Ding.

The old-fashioned spin dryer’s bell tinkled, signaling the fluffy item’s almost desiccation. Breaking from his thoughts, Snow took note to ask about it later as soon as Hope finished his shower.

* * *

 

“Hope, here’s your –”

Flap.

“Just in time. Thanks.”

Flap.

_“…o-okay?”_

Whatever happened to the shy boy in the past was out of the blonde’s cognition. He had seen the kid in the flesh several times before, but now he was taken aback at how _much_ he grew. Sure, Hope still had that slim physique, but for some reason, he felt a little warm when he realized that his young charge transformed into someone attractive even for his own standards.

“How long do you want to stand there? Unlike you, my ass is kind of prone to freezing,” Hope said with a serious tone with a tiny hint of something else.

Snow jumped back a little, breathing slowly, regaining his usual cocky demeanor. “I don’t know Fira. I won’t be of much help to that.”

Hope chuckled as he stepped out in nothing but the same towel Snow used earlier. “There are other things that would.”

Let the games begin.

“That I wonder ,” Snow said in a teasing tone as if their banters were just yesterday.

The look of surprise glinted in Hope’s eyes, but it was soon replaced by a smile that was a little out of place. “Then stop wondering. A hero’s brain can only take so much abuse,” he laughed again. Snow almost got along with it, but it sounded hollow yet relieved at the same time that he didn’t have the heart to respond.

The silver-haired man sidestepped a bit and started to walk towards his tent, leaving Snow with a whiff of Cocoon’s over-the-counter body wash, slightly tangy Gran Pulse spring water, and something that was definitely Hope.

His hero instincts told him that Hope was troubled. It’s his job to find that out. A hero should help his charge even if the said person seemed to be okay. He’s the boy’s savior, after all.

_“Sis, what should I do?”_

* * *

 

For some reason, Hope’s Medic spells felt like home to him. After sustaining several wounds from his temporal dives, some of them actually festered without him knowing.

“Ouch! Mind being a little careful? I am glad to experience your strength as a 24-year-old but I’m not so peachy right now.”

“Oops. My bad,” Hope apologized sheepishly, the back poking and palpating changing into more subtle touches. Apparently, being a l’Cie again made Snow almost invincible, having access to his Medic Crystarium allowed him to self-recuperate to an extent. But then again, remembering Hope’s one-sided lectures on the Cure-class spells’ limitations, he should’ve known better; yes, his garb was well intact, but underneath his skin, there’s a different story going on. Not to mention that being a healer wasn’t one of the blonde’s primary roles.

“Cure is only skin-deep, so you should’ve used Curasa at the very least. Were you skimping on Potions? Despite the miniscule recovery it provides, those actually repair lacerations to some extent,” the young man continued, sighing heavily against the blonde’s nape.

“Such enlightenment, Dr. Estheim. I’m really moved to tears,” Snow deadpanned, sitting still in front of Hope’s open legs, almost falling asleep since the other man was emitting a comfortable heat which rivaled the chilled air the eclipse brought.

That earned him a light bonk at the head courtesy of a slightly pissed Hope.

“Correction. It’s _Director_ ,” the young man admonished, though it lacked the condescending tone. Snow believed he was actually _enjoying_ himself playing doctor right now. Oh, scratch that. His former charge was highly competent, as far as their experience in saving Cocoon was concerned.

It took a while for Snow to process this, and as soon as he did, he leaned back and laughed good-naturedly, his head landing softly on Hope’s bare chest. “So that explains all the nerdy thingamajigs,” he huffed, feeling proud of what his charge became. “The people here are either scared or serious when we’re walking earlier too. Well, that comes with the job, I guess. Treat them well, Director,” he remarked, remembering his days with NORA back in Cocoon and New Bodhum. Oh, how he missed his crew.

Then the former kid did something Snow thought was unthinkable, but not necessarily unwelcome. Hope ruffled his hair just like what he did to him with what felt like years ago. “Of course, I always make sure I do that. Who do you think I learnt from?” the silver-haired man said fondly, brimming of subdued confidence which told him that despite being under Lightning’s Spartan combat and leadership lessons, Hope actually followed his footsteps without question. Hope’s voice was still light as he remembered, but it now came with a distinctly deeper tone, its vibrations taking him closer to the vestiges of sleep.

“I take that as a compliment then,” Snow yawned, scratching his ever-present stubble and appreciating the balmy feeling that Hope exuded. Now that he noticed it, the kid was actually taller than him this time around. But, Hope was still Hope, and it followed that Snow was comfortable with any version of his charge.

However, his bliss was short-lived when he was tipped forward, almost hitting the ground only to be saved by Hope’s palm on his chest. “Some deeper wounds are inflamed,” the man clicked his tongue in disapproval. “They might look healed, but some of the spots on your back are still pretty red and warm to the touch. I might need to get them re-opened in order to clean them,” he continued, sounding a little unsure.

Snow literally shuddered at the explanation. “So…that means you’re gonna do some painful poking again?”

Hope stayed silent for a while, probably weighing what the best course of action would be. “Unless you want to stay here for at least two weeks, receiving intravenous infusions,” he mumbled, sounding a little sad and what Snow made out to be hopeful at the same time.

“Or, we could do it faster by slashing them up, flushing them with Hi-Potions or Elixirs and sealing all of them with Curajas. Your call,” the man offered as an alternative, massaging the blonde’s scalp like the way he did to him back in Vallis Media. “Judging by the way you look, you arrived here using a Gate,” Hope said as if stating a fact. “You might be on a hurry to find the next Gate so you can continue with your journey.”

Forgetting the promises of pain the other option implied, he focused on the last string of words the silver-haired man said. Snow was no genius, but he felt that Hope knew too much. “How the hell did you know?”

The young man took a deep breath, sighing softly, his hand gently sifting through the unruly blonde locks, Snow not complaining about the attention he was getting. “My research involves those things that you call ‘Gates’, as well as prophecy archives called Oracle Drives. Initially, we hypothesized that those were just a by-product of a paradox back at the ruins of Bresha in 5 AF, but after observing how these things worked, we now believe those can only be used by a select number of people and will only activate with the right thing called a ‘Fragment’. Sounds ridiculous, but I’m quite sure you know that already,” he explained, his voice sinking lower and quieter.

“And to top it all off, Serah and Noel had an encounter with Aloeidai several hours ago,” Hope noted rather awkwardly, sounding unsure if he should’ve kept his mouth shut. “They left as soon as they got a Fragment.”

“Oh, okay. If they’re not hurt, that’s good then.”

Hope paled and whispered harshly, his tone carrying different layers of disbelief. “H-how can you be okay with that?”

“Relax. I’ve been with them a few moments, days, years – ah, whatever,” Snow grunted, all the time-jumping stuff taking its toll on him. “We crossed paths recently, and they’re busy with other stuff and besides, you already know that I cannot use their Gates so I have my own, so to speak.”

The young man wasn’t convinced. “But you chased her till the end of our journey, hell, even saving her from crystal stasis. How could you not go follow her once more? You…you love her, right?”

“Ugh, this again?” the blonde sighed in resignation. “She…called it off a long time ago. You were probably back in Cocoon that time.”

The silence urged Snow to continue.

“Sure, I still love her, na? But…Serah said that there might be some things that I might…not be considering at that time and she said that my true happiness was not with her,” he followed up, thinking about how she perished in 500 AF. Yes, the vision of one of the kindest people you knew being killed by a prophecy could get your feelings trampled on; of course, Serah was still an important person to him.

He thought that the trigger of this whole journey might not be Serah at all.

The events in 13 AF shook him to the core. How ironic. If the world’s ‘Hope’ died in the archive tower that he himself helped to create, would everything be covered in darkness? Shattered timelines aside, he could not overlook something like a fallen comrade. Hell, they’ve been partners for the longest time.

Sure, Serah would die in more or less 500 years, but looking back at the foundations of the timelines, if Hope was kept alive and breathing, he might find a way to save her too! He might damn the world but somehow, he felt that his line of action was right.

He’ll save Hope, no matter what. In turn, they would definitely devise a way to find Serah and Lightning. He would definitely think – no; together, they would surely come up with something.

The sad part? Being a l’Cie didn’t translate to being omniscient. However, Snow and thought process didn't exactly jive together, like mixing oil with water. He would end up charging forward anyway.

Snow got immune from dreaming about the vision of 13 AF over and over while traveling through Historia Crux. Hearing Hope’s gasps and bloody gurgles as if he was the one who got shot forged his resolve to restore or even destroy the timeline if he needed to.

Equipped with the fact that the Hope of 13 AF was more or less the person nursing him to health right now: all grown up with the looks and the brains to boot, ready to face on anything for the sake of humanity whether it was a monster, a paradox, a Fal’cie or even a god, there was no choice at all. There was nothing to choose over in the first place. Snow got Hope’s back during their battle with Eden; Hope has always been his equal. He’d be glad to be the young man’s hero again.

And again.

And again. Without question.

“I have thought about things – and no, seriously, I was thinking,” Snow snapped a little, assuming that Hope would throw a jab on his brain functions despite the serious air between them. “I have the chance to change things for the better,” he muttered, finding the right way to say his piece. He didn’t want to mess this rare scenario. “I’d grab or hold onto anything that would help to accomplish that.”

“Becoming a l’Cie included?” Hope asked meekly, a tad confused since he never got a straight answer from the blonde.

Snow frowned at the query. “It’s the only way. I’m not like you or Serah who seemed to awaken their Crystarium without being branded.”

The pregnant silence lingered in the chilly tent, only the faint sound of Hope’s perpetually working computer, the buzzing of a flying drone that flew inside the tent’s perimeter and the white noise from the electric lights all melded lazily with the sound of their slow breathing. The gentle hand on Snow’s head never missed a beat, still continuing its ministrations.

“What a chore you’ve got now, hero,” Hope snickered, diffusing the grave atmosphere between them. “I could definitely imagine you harassing a poor Fal’cie to brand you. How typical, Snow. How typical.”

The light-hearted laughter, the bickering, the innuendo, the strife for being shoulder to shoulder.

An epiphany.

Snow broke a smile and jabbed a playful uppercut to the other’s chin.

“Well, it was a cute Cactuar. I couldn’t resist,” the Sentinel grinned, a realization dawning despite the darkness of the eclipse overshadowing the whole of the Archaeopolis and its surrounding areas. It was like another paradox was solved, and he was feeling light and accomplished now that he understood what he pondered for the longest time.

_“Serah, I remember Sis telling me that you observed our journey through your Crystal. Were you telling me that you knew it was Hope all along?”_

* * *

 

“Hm. Eorzea? Saving a Fal’cie from Behemoths? Sounds like a children’s storybook,” the young man noted, nodding sagely. “However, the fucking sentinel in shining Steelguard was absolutely thirty shades of lame. You often make bad analogies but that was just too much I couldn’t even laugh,” Hope said in a tepid tone, shuddering slightly at the blonde’s rather unconventional way of recollecting of events in his travels.

Slash.

“H-hey, that hurts!”

“It’s bound to hurt. As much as I want you to stay longer, you chose the hard way. Better this or you’ll be behind schedule. Heroes shouldn’t be late.”

“I know, but, argh!”

“…you like this.”

“…is mind-reading another paradigm role of yours?”

Bonk.

“Shut up, you masochist.”

* * *

 

The sun was up, but the sky over the ruins still loomed in darkness, the eclipse paradox has never been solved completely. Heroes required rest as part of their missions too, and Snow felt that he overextended his stay. Sleeping on Hope’s cot was far from comfortable, but the presence of the young man was good enough for him, much like their former days in Gran Pulse; Hope still smelled like old books, adventure, over-the-counter Cocoon body wash, tangy Gran Pulse water, and something that was unmistakably Hope.

“So, have any idea where your next Gate is around here? We couldn’t find any Fragment yesterday,” Hope spoke with a yawn, stretching his free arm. Snow just scratched his head in annoyance. He surely will never get used to perpetual darkness; not being able to decipher whether it’s day or night surely took its toll on him, even if it was just for three days.

Grumbling and snuggling his head on Hope’s neck, he inhaled deeply before replying lazily. “I’ll just look for it when I head out. If there are no Fragments for me here, then I’ll just go my merry way back to the Gate where I came out of and probably check out other locations.”

“Huh. No contingency plans at all?”

He smirked on the young director’s skin. “Nope.”

“I swear you’ll be the death of me someday,” Hope groaned as he felt the rough stubble of Snow’s chin on his collarbone. The blonde’s head was cutting off the circulation on Hope’s arm but the young man never complained; having a limited sleeping space, it was the best setup that they could manage. Warmth was just a bonus, and Hope would never admit that he liked the fact that he was taller than Snow now.

Gran Pulse veggies for the win.

“On the contrary, I’ll make sure you stay alive,” Snow replied jovially with a hint of resolve. The director couldn’t understand what he meant but knowing the blonde, it probably was one of his usual Hero Mode lines.

“Whatever you say.”

A mild kick and blonde went sprawling on the hard ground.

* * *

 

Behemoth wails echoed across Yaschas Massif, a huge difference from the Amphisbaenas that usually marked the start of the day. In the midst of the harrowing darkness, the researchers around the ruins were having a high time since Aloeidai was dealt with a few days ago. Musings from visitors from nearby towns and scholastic centers gave life to the bleak remnants of the Paddraean civilization.

“Guess I’m off to go time-hopping again,” Snow sighed, slinging his rucksack as if it was light as a feather, though by the looks of it, Hope probably wouldn’t be able to carry it with just one hand.

Hope nodded in understanding. “Honestly, I…I felt sad when everyone just got up and left several years ago – Lightning, then you, Sazh and finally, Serah…” he paused for a bit, then switched to a look of resolution. “But come to think of it, you’re all doing your best in undoing these paradoxes while Light is fighting a tireless battle somewhere. It’s about time that I do my part too. It’s no use getting sad, for in time, we will surely meet again. This is not goodbye. I’ll stay here to welcome you home when you return.”

With a smile, he offered his gloved fist to Snow. “I’m rooting for you, partner.”

Snow’s heart raced a bit.

Grinning, he bumped his fist to the taller director, marking the start of another journey.

“Same here, partner.”

* * *

 

The blonde waved before jumping from ledge upon ledge, proceeding to the entrance of the research camp. Realizing that he lacked Potions (Hope will scold him again if he forgot those), he stopped by Chocolina’s shop and got a nice amount, much to the weird chocobo lady’s joy of hearing the metallic jingles of gil.

“Choco-choco? Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Eh? I just purchased Potions, so what else could I possibly forget?”

The chocobo lady flapped her wings (arms?) and did a mock-salute. “The Director loves sweet things! But I can’t sell Flan ‘cause they’re all gooey and slimy and gross, Choco-choco… But oooh! I smell something tasty from your bag! Chocobos have excellent olfactory faculties, Chocolin~! And I learned that from the Director too!”

Rummaging his already overworked brain, he tried to make a list of anything sweet that he might’ve carried from his journeys.

“Ah, yep! Thank you!” And with that, he dashed back to the camp, adamant on leaving Hope something to remember him by (and probably munch on) in his absence.

Out of breath, the blonde barged in Hope’s tent. Luckily, the young man was in full uniform, the clattering of his keyboard stating that he wouldn’t be leaving his vicinity anytime soon.

“Welcome home, partner,” Hope said warmly, not looking at the sudden visitor – he just left a few minutes ago anyway – so he resumed on typing his usual morning report with a speed Snow cannot match. His drone flew around the tent, which reminded him of Bhakti back in Oerba. “It’s hard to imagine how time flows when you're using Gate, hm? Wish I could do that too.”

Suddenly, a box blocked the director’s view and Hope’s senses were attacked by something that smelled faintly of…

“Chocolate?” the young man replied, now distracted from his work. “You have my attention. What is this all about?” he continued, mildly annoyed from the interruption. Snow concluded that a working Hope was totally different from the off-duty Hope.

“An Adamantoise never forgets,” Snow said cheekily, thrusting into Hope’s chest a box of Bubble Chocolate that he got from one of the realms he traversed. “Eorzea had that Valentione’s event and the whole realm was full of all sorts of sweet stuff. I got some just for kicks. You said you liked sweets, so perhaps it would be best to give them to you before time-surfing.”

Hope’s eyes widened and it soon crinkled with a resigned smile. “Right. Your memory retention seems to be improving. You sure this won’t cause a paradox? It came from a different timeline.”

“Nah, probably won’t. Nothing special. It’s food, for Etro’s sake,” Snow shrugged, affirming that it won’t cause an anomaly – probably. “It improves spell casting speed too, so I think you might enjoy that. Sort of like Haste with Faith, if you may. Come to think of it, you still have Sentinel and probably can go Commando too, right partner? Wanna try my Cockatrice Meatballs?” he continued with vigor, sifting through his seemingly bottomless bag for the last serving of the buffing food in his sack.

“Um. Right. Maybe next time. I need to relieve, er, uh, compose – no, I mean talk to my colleagues now. Please see yourself out. Take care on your journey, partner.”

With that, Hope ran out of the tent, face flushed, breathing heavily and sweating buckets.

“Did I say anything wrong?”

* * *

 

The nifty feature of the Historia Crux was having a well-defined map of the timeline Gates one had used in his journey. Especially when one happened to not get his change after purchasing Potions from a certain gil-hoarder named Chocolina. Though she existed in different timelines, her ledger was not the same for each realm. In short, one should visit the same timeline in order to file a dispute on sales and other transactions.

Not that Snow was running out of gil, but then again, frugality was the best policy.

“Damn, sorry, but I forgot my change from buying fifty Potions last time,” the blonde said apologetically. He was so used to gil being in coin and electronic form but having bills was a different issue altogether. Chocolina didn’t accept cards from Cocoon, now that the cashless payment system was still being under reconstruction, and having just a hundred gil could cause a slightly irritating jingling inside your pocket during battles. The chocobo lady begged to differ though – the noisier her gil stash was, the better.

“Choco-choco? Ara! The Director’s beloved partner! Mou… As much as I love money, Chocolina is an honest merchant, so here’s your change!”

_"What? ‘Beloved’ partner?”_

* * *

 

“ _I need you._ _As long as I_ _need_ _you, you are not allowed to die._ ”

_“I’m the one you want!”_

_“Snow is_ mine _.”_

* * *

 

“Hey, what are you getting all googly-eyed at, Choco-choco?” the merchant squeaked, causing Snow to imagine that he was being angrily pecked at by Sazh’s tiny chocobo chick. “It’s a fine day today! See, the eclipse is almost gone! You should take a walk! Exercise is always good!”

True enough, the sky seemed like it was dawn. The paradox might be dealt with soon, probably due to Serah’s and Noel’s intervention from somewhere along the timeline.

She turned somber and picked on some of her ruffled feathers. “The Director has been working too much lately… He hasn’t purchased any Potions for quite some time now, and when I greet him, he’s usually smiling but it doesn’t reach his eyes, Choco-choco… I saw him talking to a big-busted woman earlier today too… He looked really-really-really happy but something was a bit off… My Choco-senses are tingling, Chocolin…”

 _“Okay, so Hope, the ever-workaholic never leaves his tent, and he talked to a hot lady just a while ago,”_ he growled, but then simmered down almost immediately.

_“We’re partners, right? It’s not like I’m his…oh.”_

As always, he traversed the semi-busy research camp, not minding the stares that he was receiving from the number of scholars and visitors flocking the ruins. Vaulting from one scaffolding to another, he approached the Director’s tent with ease. He had a one-track mind; acting without thinking was his specialty after all.

Ungraciously lifting the flap of the Director’s abode, he plunged into the same scenario; same Hope typing like a madman, same drone humming lowly in the tent akin to a mutated Meonekton, same nostalgic scent that his nose was accustomed to in his short three-day stay in the same tent.

Almost the same frame when he left for what felt like an hour ago.

The clattering of the abused keyboard stopped abruptly. The unsure smile was something different this time.

“Welcome home, partner. What brings you here today?”

Chocolina was right on the money – no pun intended. He’d bet his two gil that Hope was having sleepless nights when he saw those creepy dark rings around his eyes. His face wasn’t all sunken so Snow thought he must be eating properly (to his relief). Glancing on Hope’s workstation, he noticed a white box sitting harmlessly on a plethora of papers.

“Nah, I just forgot my change from that choco-lady. I’d certainly go broke in the future if that always happened, na?” Snow tried his best not to growl, but seeing that white box gave him jitters. It looked…so foreign as if it should not be there in the first place.

A paradox, maybe?

“Haha. Stocked up on Potions last month?” Hope sighed, slumping a bit on his sad-looking, semi-rusty metal stool. The makeshift research camp was certainly not made for comfort; cushioning also took a lot of space so a fluffy ottoman to go with a plush work chair was surely out of the question.

“Right,” Snow mumbled lowly. His butt would hurt if he used that lame excuse of a sitting implement, so he thought of asking Hope to get another one soon, or he might get a replacement one from the Carpenters’ Guild in Gridania if he asked nicely?

Silence.

“Huh? Last month?”

Now Snow was confused.

“Oh, it’s been a month since you went to find your Gate. It probably didn’t feel like a month to you, partner,” the director hypothesized, and judging from his tone, Snow thought he was absolutely right. “Anyway, I-I, ugh, this is for you.”

Hope stood from his location and abruptly picked up the same white box Snow had been eyeing suspiciously the moment he entered the tent. For all his tiredness, he still managed to tower over the blonde and chucked the said box to the chest of one befuddled Snow.

“Uh, according to some relics that we gathered from other locations, it’s tradition in Eorzea to return the favor a month after Valentione’s, more importantly if you receive chocolates from the one you like,” Hope explained weakly, unlike his confident, director-worthy tone. He wasn’t meeting Snow in the eye.

Things began to fall into its rightful places.

The careful touches. The photo. The possessive tone. The aggression when he got hurt. The boy’s actions back then. The young man’s actions now.

Snow realized for certain what the unknown emotion in he often saw in Hope’s eyes was.

Longing.

“That means…you like me.”

It didn’t come out as a question; it’s a confirmation to be more precise. His chest clenched tighter. Sure, he got a number of proposals after breaking up with Serah, and he turned down all of them, believing that he was just a passing fancy to them; he couldn’t stay at a single timeline anyway.

“Since that Adamantoise hunt? Yes. Don’t make me repeat myself and for Etro’s sake, don’t ask me why either.”

The blonde closed his eyes, silently gauging what he actually felt. Hope was his closest person. Now, he’s on the run to stop this brilliant man from being assassinated three years from now. If that didn’t make Hope his most important person, he never knew who else it would be. He wouldn’t forgive himself if he failed. He made a promise to Nora, and he firmly stood to fulfill it.

It was like standing on a silent, frozen lake; one wrong move and he would sink in the freezing water below. Breathing deeply, he understood one thing: now was the time to retrace or erase the thin line between him and the director.

What was Hope to him?

Friend? Of course, but Hope was more than that.

Family? A dysfunctional yet effective one especially if he tossed Lightning, Sazh, Vanille, Fang, Serah, and Hope into the mix. It was almost amusing; he wondered how Hope would react if he called him ‘nii-san’ now that he’s a year older than him. But, as he expected, it still didn’t fit the bill.

Partner? They were always partners in crime, having each other’s backs since the incident in Cocoon. He could strongly say that the stand on equal ground. Snow thought he should be satisfied with that, however, it felt empty.

It just wasn’t enough.

“I believe,” Snow started, accepting the box of Pearl Chocolate with shaking hands, eyes gazing at Hope’s unsettled form. “Uh, no.”

He’s positive that Hope required an explanation for saying no, observing the way he suddenly froze. Snow was planning to anyway; he was not good at words or complicated stuff but hell, he could try.

“Not ‘I believe’ but rather…I feel the same. Probably. I mean, it’s almost like with Serah, but saying it that way doesn’t give justice to it, like it’s something beyond that. It’s hard to explain but I’m pretty sure you know what I’m talking about since you’re the all-brainer here and sorts,” Snow rambled, balancing the box with one hand and scratching his head with the other.

“I would be lying if I said I’m not attracted to you,” he continued as he realized he kind of liked the cramped cot a few days ago. “Besides, you staked your claim on me with a dying Adamantoise as a witness,” Snow snickered, coming into terms with the unknown pangs in his chest all those years ago.

The clarity was blinding.

Hope sighed heavily, releasing the breath he never noticed he was holding. His eyes crinkled, slightly glazed, when he smiled softly as he sat at the edge of his work table, not minding if he put wrinkles on the reports.

“And here I thought I would get royally dumped. Visiting Lebreau in New Bodhum was surely worth the effort. It’s difficult to translate a recipe of a confection that can only be found in legends, only to find out that it’s just your plain aerated white chocolate bonbon, you know?” Hope chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief, voice cracking a bit. “Fuck Snow, what took you so long?”

Snow’s eyebrow rose at the name, thinking that changing the subject now could lessen the heat Hope’s swearing brought. Heroes shouldn’t have dirty thoughts.

“Lebreau? She was here?”

Busty lady, Choco-choco? That’s Lebreau alright.

_“I actually got jealous of her?”_

“The NORA House accepts deliveries in advance now,” Hope explained, regaining his composure. He rubbed his eyes with his sleeve in a last-ditch effort to at least appear dignified again. “Too bad you missed her. She was so looking forward to see how much you changed. And damn, she’s too perceptive that it downright scary; I didn’t even need to say a single word about…this.”

“Trust me, you wouldn’t want to get on her bad side,” Snow deadpanned, knowing full well that she can castrate a man with a wooden spoon. He opened the box to grab a bonbon and true enough, a sticky note under the cover posed as a death warrant.

‘Make him cry and say goodbye to Snow Jr.’

The line felt like an ice cube down his shirt.

On the good side though, the Pearl Chocolate tasted normal, though a little underwhelming despite its ornate history. It’s the thought that counted, perhaps.

Popping a few joints of his neck, Hope yawned and crossed his arms over his chest. “Now that has been dealt with, I can finally go back to working normally,” he said sleepily, Snow noticing that the kid Hope was still there, much to his amusement. “You probably need to be somewhere else right now, hm? I’ll walk you to your Gate.”

Snow frowned at the statement. The director was a busy man, but this was too much. “Hey, I just got here! After all that jazz, no hugs?”

“Shut up.”

* * *

 

Maybe he had it all wrong.

Hope was back to normal, the prim and proper director leading a mission to uncover relics and investigate the paradox behind the perpetual eclipse; too normal to his liking, as if their exchange never happened in the first place.

Snow couldn’t help but be anxious. He was expecting that they would be talking more, or maybe Hope would somehow be fonder of him than usual and let him stay for a little longer. Hell, they were officially partners a few minutes earlier for Etro’s sake!

Silence reigned their walk towards the only Gate that he could use in this timeline, even battles were met with the usual lines about paradigm shifts and tactics.

“Now, now. Who brought the rainclouds in?” Hope said lightly, grass crunching beneath his shoes as he followed the blonde towards the intricate Gate. He leaned his back on the smooth rock that rose above one side of Yaschas Massif, chuckling lightly at the sentinel’s rather child-like behavior.

Snow turned and faced the young man. “I don’t understand. One minute you were confessing, then another minute you’re all work and stuff,” he grumbled. He admitted that he liked Hope that way too. The feelings were mutual, so why shouldn’t they act on it?

Hope stepped closer to the blonde, a hand inside the pocket of his trousers. “A hero has his mission.”

“But –”

The director shook his head and sported a crooked grin. “I want you to stay. Damn, I wish I could keep you here so I can watch over you. But then again, if I did, I would just weigh you down. Face it, Snow; you need to fulfill your Focus. Making out with a glassy, rock-solid Cie’th? That’s kinky enough but not very romantic, don’t you think?”

“What if I turn into crystal?” the blonde whispered softly. They got lucky after their battle in Eden, returning to realm of the living. However, what if he used up all his luck this time? What if it took years, centuries, or hell, even millennia for him to wake up?

“What a worrywart,” Hope chided. “I’m working on a thesis about mimicking the effect of crystal stasis using gravitational manipulation. If test results were successful, then all I’ll do is just sleep beside you, and when you wake up, I’m just a button press away. If not, then I promise I’ll find a workaround,” he explained in the simplest terms possible; he was talking to his partner, not to his students or colleagues.

“You never cease to amaze me, Director.” Snow nodded in understanding, flashing his usual smile. Hope hated losing, so at least it put his worries to rest. One way or another, he’s sure Hope would keep his promise.

Yes, his journey wasn’t over yet, but now all he _needed_ was to finish this whole ordeal and make sure that Hope lived from 13 AF and all the years after that with him, under temporal stasis or not.

“So go now before I turn into an over-possessive boyfriend,” Hope said cheekily, fiddling with his tie before attaching a piece of metal on Snow’s coat lapel.

An Academia tie clip, the symbol of being a member of the premier scholastic institution in the field of research and technology, now lied just over his heart. Hope’s fingers lingered on the blonde’s chest long enough for its warmth to seep through the metal and layers of fabric.

“For good luck.”

“Heh. I used to think people in the scientific community never believed in superstitions. Man, was I so wrong.”

Snow almost expected the regular ‘shut up’, but soon he realized it wasn’t actually the case; warm puffs of breath and the taste of tea were good enough to pacify his blabbering.

Stepping into the crossroads of time, he waved and shouted promises of being back soon, only to hear of what sounded like ‘devour’ and ‘Cockatrice Meatballs’ as the timeline contorted, signaling that his time-hopping has begun anew.

The interstices of time had zero gravity, and Snow floated through ring after ring as he pondered on which Gate to traverse next. Considering that it would take a bit longer to reach the furthest portal in his field of vision, he stuck his hand into his bag and rummaged it for his last serving of meatballs. Meals in transit were the secret of being ready for anything once he stepped out of a Gate in the midst of a battlefield. A hero cannot fight with an empty stomach.

Munching on the spicy protein dish, he tried to figure out what Hope said before he disappeared into the stream of time.

“Okay, so devour my Cockatrice Meatballs, huh?” he thought aloud, skewering another round lump of ground meat and popping it in his mouth.

Choking and coughing sounds littered the vast expanse of Historia Crux when a mass of meat went down the hero’s windpipe.

_“Did Hope just offer me head?”_

Crap.

He hoped that he could find a cold shower in the timeline he would be invading next, preferably in a city or near a lake. Fighting with a hard-on was a total pain in the crotch.

* * *

 

A time traveler’s worst enemy was time itself; running on a variable schedule without any means to keep track of it added an invisible handicap, the timeline a massive ticking bomb. However, it could be considered a dual-edged sword; timelines significantly change only when a paradox somewhere had been resolved.

Thus, even if just for a while, Snow could enjoy being in one location for a bit since he didn’t have a deadline of sorts – well, according to Mog’s rather lengthy lecture when he revisited the Waterscape, kupo. Serah gave him a knowing look when she saw the Academia clip while Noel wondered aloud how he became a researcher if he didn’t even know the difference between a Fragment and a Scarletite.

He was running low on Gysahl greens recently; rambunctious chocobos literally kicked his butt if he didn’t have a steady supply of it; talk about high-maintenance birds from hell. Ironically, the Chocolina of a certain rendition of Oerba was out of the munchy, crunchy veggie stuff. If she’s a real chocobo, she should have a warehouse of that – it’s a staple for the birdfolk.

That led him back to Yaschas Massif. He’d been away from a good while, and he might as well say hi to his Hope.

The eclipse darkened the place, mimicking a few hours before dawn. Trekking across the ravine, he noticed that there were fewer monsters this time, not to mention he never encountered a single Behemoth. Weird.

Ringing up his purchase of a full stash of greens much to the chocobo lady's delight, Snow made a beeline towards the director’s tent, half-expecting an annoyed version of ‘Welcome home, partner’, assuming that Hope should be angrily battling with his keyboard.

All he got was a dozing Hope, cheek sinking into a set of keys, drooling slightly. A cup filled to one-third with tea was sadly forgotten, contents now cold in abandon. A small plate of cookies sat beside the poor cup, a half-nibbled one on top of a few oatmeal munchies.

Hope was a mess to be honest, and Snow snickered silently, imagining a director talking to his subordinates with welts on his face from using a keyboard as a pillow.

“What a kid,” he admonished playfully, heading to the young man’s sorry excuse of a bed and pulled the neatly-folded blanket. Moving carefully, he unfolded it and gently covered him, hoping that it would ward the cold until the time he woke up.

“I’m not a kid,” Hope grumbled, though he never showed any other sign of waking up, earning a grin from his wide-awake visitor.

As much as he wanted to chat a little with his partner, perhaps he needed to take a break so he opted to give the director a rain check on that. Instead, he opted to fish his pants pocket for a little trinket that he scored from a moonkeeper goldsmith-in-training in Limsa Lominsa. Apparently, the feline guy was shocked to see the inspiration of the Sentinel outfit which was one of the popular glamour items among male adventurers in the realm. Long story short, he got the item from a fan at the price of a simple chat over some broiled fish and cheap ale.

Kneeling to match the other man’s prone position, he smoothed the director’s tie and attached an aetheryte clip to hold the delicate blue fabric in place; it would be a hazard if his tie suddenly blocked his view when doing those damn backflips.

Admiring his handiwork, he gave the young man a quick peck in the lips, not minding the tiny stream of drool. Hope tasted of black tea and raisins.

Snow rose and gave his partner and the cluttered workstation one last look, taking note of a new picture of the two of them sleeping during his first visit pasted closely to the one they had at the Skyreach. Snow wasn’t aware that someone entered when they were knocked dead until the drone hovered close to him and the sound of camera shutters gave everything away.

Hope surely knew how to pick his confidantes; first, an Adamantoise, and now, a Meonekton-like drone which probably did nothing but fly, and well, maybe take a lot of photos. What was with the director and his penchant for monsters?

The sentinel made a universal sign of silence at the drone. The noise it made might pull the young man away from dreamland no matter how his ears were used to the buzzing. Interestingly, the drone landed on the table and folded its wings, turning into a huge crustacean-inspired paperweight as it ceased all movement.

“Good boy. Watch Hope for me, eh?”

Snow took the set of beeps as a yes.

* * *

 

“Senpai? Senpai!”

The shrill tone of epic shouting assaulted Snow’s ears upon raising the flap of Hope’s tent. For a girl who screamed that loud, she must be something special. Those vocal cords must be made of Long Gui shell. Slipping out of the makeshift office/personal room of the director, his eyes met the approaching of a blonde girl whose shade was rivaling his own, carrying an enormous stack of papers with a bunch of rolled parchment in between her arms and torso.

Alyssa.

“Ara? A visitor? Is senpai in?” the girl spoke loudly, urgency marking her features. Another set of workload for the already overworked Hope, he guessed.

He flashed a cocky smile. “Yep! But it would be best if you turn that voice down just a tiny bit. The Director is currently taking his beauty nap.” Despite his carefree tone, his statement carried an air that deemed it absolutely non-negotiable.

The girl seemed to understand that, puffing her cheeks in resignation. “Well, that’s senpai for you. I’ll just drop by after a few hours.”

“Those things look heavy. Would you like to bring them inside?”

Her eyes narrowed at the offer. “No. It’s not proper for a lady to barge into a man’s room, even if I am quite curious about how senpai’s space would look from the inside.”

Sensing that the papers might be considered classified to most people based from the wary look he was getting, Snow shrugged it off and strode past the girl, aiming to jump out of the timeline to resume his mission. He could always come back anytime.

“Whatever floats your boat, missy,” he remarked, humming the Boomerang Maintenance Song as he went.

“Wait!” Alyssa whispered, Snow thankful the she heeded his advice. “You have an Academia insignia. Are you a researcher too?”

Turning his heels, he spun and faced the lady with a confident grin. “I’m in charge of the Team Sigma, Guardian Division,” he said, whipping up a random name that sounded heroic but not entirely unbelievable. He might fuck up the timeline, but at least he made a bookmark for easier tracking of the girl in the future. “But for now, I’m just a visitor passing by. Got to do my rounds somewhere else. See ya!”

A breeze ruffled his coat, and with a determined look, he turned the other way and proceeded to start his trek towards the solitary Gate.

_“I’ll deal with you soon.”_

* * *

 

“Senpai, just a quick question,” Alyssa quipped, trailing behind Hope during his patrols around the Paddraean ruins. They weren’t required to, but during muggy days like this, it never hurt to do it anyway. Walking a bit helped regain leg circulation after sitting for hours in a tent or at the conference area, and the humidity was just right to turn the usually chilly air to an atmosphere conducive for a small trek.

“What is it?” Hope asked, stopping immediately to humor the girl behind him. Turning gracefully, he smiled and wondered if it would be about numbers and calculations again.

She set her balance on the ball of her left foot and her finger tapped her chin, curiosity written all over her face.

“Do we have Team Sigma, Guardian Division deployed in the area? I was away for quite some time and I wonder if you called in other teams when I was in Cocoon.”

It took two seconds for Hope to put the pieces together. Fighting the urge to laugh, he sported a lopsided grin, painting the girl confused.

“Yes, we do. It’s an autonomous unit though, so even I have little to no knowledge on what they actually do,” he explained, playing along with what his huge lug of a partner started. “They probably do some monster count maintenance or paradox clearing?”

Alyssa slapped a fist on her palm in a Eureka moment of her own. “That’s why that big lump of a guy had that weird aura of ‘I’ll protect you!’ or something along those lines. If you get hugged by those huge arms, you would probably feel invincible. Makes perfect sense to me.”

Satisfied with her deduction, he zoomed past Hope, yelling about the places that they missed earlier, her pep literally spreading like a contagion, earning them a few giggles and shaking heads from the sparse amount of people by the camp outskirts.

Hope rolled his eyes in mock-annoyance and crossed his arms, his skin registering the feeling of his new simplistic tie clip with three azure crystals set in rose gold.

_“Team Sigma, huh? I think you nailed it this time.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I have a thing for a taller-than-Snow version of Hope, so there. I admit that these two guys are kinda sticking together like melting marshmallows; even after finishing Lightning Returns. Seriously, Snow and Hope should get their own Final Fantasy XIII title, like...
> 
> FFXIII: Snow Balls
> 
> or
> 
> FFXIII: Hope Blossoms
> 
> Well, whatever. I'm off to dreamland. Hope you enjoyed this lengthy one-shot. Argh. I tend to over-overextend things. Guh.


End file.
